


Tell Me I'm an Angel

by upallnightstrungtight



Series: 3, 2, 1, we came to- [3]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4165785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/upallnightstrungtight/pseuds/upallnightstrungtight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zhou Mi takes his fill. (Background piece #2 for <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3350387">Bottoms Up</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me I'm an Angel

It feels like Zhou Mi’s everywhere, large hands pinning Henry’s wrists to the mattress, tongue tauntingly slipping between his lips, the warm skin of Zhou Mi’s firm stomach pressing into the underside of his thighs and the _justright_ friction of slow, slick thrusts, practiced to perfection to reduce him to incoherence. He has no leverage to press back, ask silently for an impossible _more_ , and no permission to use words to beg or plead. When Zhou Mi’s mouth leaves his all too soon, Henry whimpers, straining to follow, or at _least_ reach that prominent collarbone, but to no avail. A smooth cheek slides along his, just as damp and overheated.

“You still smell like Donghae’s sheets and Siwon’s cologne,” Zhou Mi murmurs into his ear. He twitches from the press of Zhou Mi’s lips to the side of his neck, and that low, rumbling chuckle zings all the way through him. He turns his head away, panting, trying to entice further exploration. He _needs_. “Oh, and a third? Was it a free-for-all or did you take them all at once? Mmm, no, don’t tell me.” Henry bites his own lip to comply. “It’s much more fun to imagine.” Zhou Mi’s voice is like honey, smooth and intoxicating, but that, too, barely has time to sink in before his teeth slowly sink into Henry’s shoulder with almost enough pressure, still hurting _so good_.

Zhou Mi releases his wrists only to wrap long arms under him, iron grip leaving him nearly as immobile as before. With his hands now free, Henry runs his fingers in looping lines down Zhou Mi’s back, carefully avoiding going up into his hair, concentrating to counter deeply ingrained habit ( _slip through press close gimme more takemetakeme_ ) because Zhou Mi absolutely _hates_ having his hair touched when he’s been sweating. It’s not like Henry isn’t already used to dealing with adorable, fussy little- “Ah!” Suddenly, there’s suction on his neck, strong, relentless, and Zhou Mi’s only slow on the outstrokes now, snapping his hips forward with enough force to audibly rattle the loose side of the frame. It all combines to wrench a long string of smashed-together consonants out of him, leaving him with aftershocks running all around the now-forlorn point of contact; he makes another straining effort to surge off the bed, trying to get closer somehow.

“I really don’t know where you find the time,” Zhou Mi says, sounding slightly out of breath. “No matter, you’re all mine tonight.” The scratches Henry doesn’t mean to make in reaction are very light, they’ll be gone within a minute, even. What _is_ it about those words? “I know, I know, two hours. I still have… let’s see, a little over an hour left.” The pace Zhou Mi set finally falters before stilling. His deep breaths are the only sound for a long moment before he pulls out entirely, sweat and heat making his arms lightly cling to Henry’s shoulderblades as he releases his hold to sit back. He always looks good, lean and a little bit delicate; he’s usually all precision, but mussed like this, his sensuality looks effortless, overpowering in an utterly captivating way. No shield of a smile is required here. This is sanctuary. “Turn over. We need more lube,” he says without decoration. The words might come off as unnecessary, the proceedings obvious from the squeak of the bottle, even, but the two of them share a gut-deep aversion to silence and secrets. This specific one-sided silence is nothing but a game; if there was anything of consequence to say, it would already be said.

Rolling onto his front with the least effort possible, Henry drops onto his elbows, forehead brushing the sheets, and waits. And tenses, and waits. And still waits. _Oh, right._ An overwide mischevious grin flashes through his mind, accompanied by the wistful ghost of stinging along the bottom curve of his ass and down the backs of his thighs. He sighs as quietly as possible, then reaches between the bed and the nightstand for a hand towel, throwing it backwards haphazardly. Zhou Mi’s disdainful huff is comfortingly familiar, but it’s followed by the airy flop of terrycloth landing on the bed, so it’s clearly not the _wrong_ move. Henry wiggles impatiently, a tiny whine slipping out. And then he gasps.

 _Whoa, yeah, that’s definitely better_ , he would think if he could. The easing of the slight discomfort lets other sensations shine through all the brighter, Zhou Mi’s slow press inside and his still-too-gentle grip, hard enough to make it obvious that he’s _trying_ , starting the slow buildup of heat again for the third or fifth or millionth time.

“You’re going to give me _exactly_ what I want, and as much of it as I want, in the next forty-five minutes. Then. Hmmm.” He presses the heel of his palm into the small of Henry’s back, nails just barely digging in, the breaks between the building pressure of pleasure gone with his steadied thrusts. The corner of the fitted sheet starts slipping loose from Henry pulling up fistfuls of the fabric. “Maybe I’ll let you come,” Zhou Mi says with just enough nonchalance, the only one among them who can nail that tone, and -  his perfectly-centered smack comes out of nowhere, provoking an embarrassing squeak along with a jolt forward - _fucking hell_ can he back it up with exquisite, drawn-out torment, the earlier reminder of thighs kept spread wide with his hands for teasing licks and the slippery slide of his lips a prominent example. Henry’s low groan of aroused frustration into the back of his hand, pulling it between his teeth unthinkingly, is the only outward sign that he very much knows why Zhou Mi deserves as much time as he can spare.


End file.
